Who was she to me?
Why she was my Queen.
As familiar as the framed portrait
Lit by shafts of slanting sun,
Through primary-school afternoons.
‘God Save The Queen!” with gusto, sang,
At weekly assemblies.
A ruler ‘cross the back of the legs –
“You in the back! Not so loud!”
Her face, imprinted on the stamps,
That I pressed into the corners of envelopes.
And when I purchased sweets, the coins jingling in my pocket
Carried her engraving – cheerfully, I thought.
A birthday card from Auntie, tucked ten-pound note inside.
Elizabeth Regina – E 2 R- imprinted, wink’d at my good luck!
Royal births, weddings, funerals – tours
The opening of Parliament – On the news.
“Be quiet, it’s THE QUEEN!”
At Christmas, with coloured, paper crowns – askew.
We sat around the television set.
Out came the cheese, Jacobs Cream Crackers,
Mince pies and tangerines – “Pass the Quality Street!”
“Be Quiet, It’s the QUEEN!”
Her certainty – like bread and jam for tea,
As steadfast as the sun, the moon and stars,
Down through the fabric of our days and years
“I declare before you all that my whole life
…shall be devoted to your service.”
She kept her promise farther than we knew.
Today, in shock, I wake to hear the news.
The Queen is dead! The Queen is dead!
Above the Palace – a double rainbow mark’d.
And sad queues run long, to pass her Catafalque.
You ask, who was she to me?
Why, she was my Queen.
© Katharine Summers All Rights Reserved 2022